


The Free, But Sometimes Unfortunate Life of Leslie Gifford

by owlpockets



Series: El Chupacabra [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/pseuds/owlpockets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a hunt for “el chupacabra,” the girls get caught up in the schemes of the very misguided Satanic Cult of Bat Boy. Cas worries about being a good girlfriend and Sam discovers the world of vintage toys. Buckets of bullshit, Deanna’s not-so-secret crush on Adam West, and absolutely no answers ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Free, But Sometimes Unfortunate Life of Leslie Gifford

**Author's Note:**

> Written for deancasbigbang over on LJ!
> 
> See art for this story by jennskimo [here](http://jennskimo.livejournal.com/940.html). Listen to the soundtrack [here](http://8tracks.com/owlpockets/el-chupacabra).
> 
> This is set some indeterminate time in season four and introduces a couple of things from season five early. I decided to keep the canon spelling of Castiel’s name because angels are supposed to be genderless anyway. Other genderswapped characters are Ruby (Rubin) and Bobby (Bobbi). Leslie Gifford is based on the Bat Boy character of Weekly World News fame. Learn more about Bat Boy on [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bat_Boy_%28character%29). If you’re wondering about the Batman doll, look it up on ebay, they exist in great quantity and in varying states of undress. The music choices for the fanmix went in the punk direction; classic rock just isn't very female-friendly in a lot of ways, so I thought Deanna would be more into the punk scene.

The words “el chupacabra” never failed to make Deanna’s skin prickle unpleasantly on her arms. Never had she or Sam or their father actually found definitive evidence that such a thing existed, but, regardless, the concept creeped her out. Vampires she understood, but goat-sucking cryptids definitely earned Crime Against Nature status in her book. Especially when there were shady rumors of dead children simultaneously circulating. Colorado was not a bad place, overall, but the fact that they were investigating these supposed chupacabra attacks drew them away from anywhere remotely interesting.

Sam, of course, was having a grand nerdgasm over the Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde National Park. Why the chupacabra would come here was completely beyond Deanna’s comprehension—there were no goats or other suitable prey in sight, and the place closed promptly at five o’clock every afternoon. What it did have was rather a lot of middle-aged tourists wearing socks with sandals, some with children aged approximately from energetic five to despondent thirteen. Deanna had not even found any ogle-worthy archaeologists bending over in the dust, just their overly perky ranger guide that seemed to have poor control over the tone of his voice whenever Sam looked his way. Deanna wanted to laugh, but it was too hot to be worth the effort. She hated this weather, it dried our her skin and hair in what seemed liked thirty seconds flat, but her sister always managed to look like a tanned desert goddess. That was probably why their twenty-something guide was talking like his balls hadn’t dropped yet whenever their gazes crossed.

Deanna nudged Sam in the ribs with her elbow as soon as the guide stopped walking backward. “Hey, can you maybe stop eye-fucking that dweeb and help me figure out where this thing might be hiding?” she muttered.

Sam frowned, her forehead puckering as she raised an eyebrow. “I am not going to even dignify that with a reply. Besides, they said we’d have some time to look around on our own after the tour.”

“How much longer is this going to last?” There was a crumpled brochure sticking out of Sam’s jeans pocket and Deanna made a grab for it. The front page said “thirty minute walking tour,” and they had been there for at least fifteen minutes already, or so Deanna hoped. She flipped open her phone to look at the time. Okay, she could probably survive that long, provided there weren’t a lot of stupid tourist questions that needed answering before their group was set free to roam around the park.

Sam had turned her full attention back to the guide, probably trying to mollify Deanna temporarily by letting her have the brochure, which she promptly folded up into a makeshift fan. A small lizard licked its nostrils and stared at her from its perch on the wooden fence built around the Cliff Palace site. She frowned back, wondering how many times the little creature had had to listen to the same old crap from these tours.

The tour ended on schedule, for which Deanna thanked the powers that be, and the crowd started to disperse. Sam hung back to the talk to the ranger, turning on the charm, though Deanna was pretty sure she could have punched the guy in the face and he still would have liked her. She started with some basic questions about the ruins and lore, but Deanna was only half listening as she leaned against the fence. Very likely, Sam knew the mythology better than the guide, but it was a good way to butter him up for the hard questions about the chupacabra rumors.

The heat was getting to her. The ambient temperature had probably cleared one hundred degrees several hours ago. Their motel, for once, had a functional outdoor pool, and that was sounding mighty good to Deanna. She hoped it wouldn’t be full of kids by the time they got back from the park. Oh, how sweet it would be to crash headfirst into the water; Deanna was almost in full-on daydream when a scream stopped short all thoughts and conversations. Immediately, Deanna was alert, hand automatically reaching for the knife concealed in her boot. Sam was, fortunately, more levelheaded, and grabbed her arm before she ended up scaring the poor ranger shitless. As it was, he already looked pale, all the color having instantly drained from his thin features.

“What the fuck? There can’t be a chupacabra attack now, not with this many people,” Deanna muttered to her sister, who was using her superior height to try and locate the source of distress. 

There was more shouting and a young couple scrambled down from beyond the fence. “Up there, I guess. Always people where they’re not supposed to be,” Sam griped. “Badge time?”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Deanna pulled out her wallet, which luckily she had instinctually put in her pocket before leaving the car. Sam was still fishing in her bag for hers. The ranger had missed their entire exchange, busy as he was trying to corral the rest of the tourists before more of them crossed the barrier to gawk at whatever it was that had made the woman scream. Deanna hoped it was just a dead goat. God, how she hoped it was a goat.

Sam finally freed her fake ID and they simultaneously flashed them at the ranger. Police badges this time, detectives Stevie Smith and Patti Nicks. “Sir, why don’t you let us handle this. You just keep these people down here out of the way, and we’ll let you know if we need assistance.”

“Y-yeah, okay. I’ll do that.” The ranger looked relieved, and started herding the tourists away from the site.

Deanna and Sam hopped the fence easily, and picked their way through the brush while they searched. _Please be a goat, please be a goat, please be a goat…._ Deanna’s boot bumped something heavy and soft, and a small cloud of flies swarmed into the air around her. She looked down. It wasn’t a goat. Fuck.

“That’s….bad,” Sam said, peering over Deanna’s shoulder at the mostly fresh yet ashen body lying on the ground amidst the weeds and rocks.  
Deanna wished she could look away. “No, shit. What is this kid, like ten?”

“That would be my guess.” Sam took a deep breath and knelt down, using a bandana from her pocket to cover her hand as she turned the boy’s head back and forth. “There are marks at the junction of the left shoulder. They sure look like every story of chupacabra attacks I know, but I’ve never heard of attacks on humans before.”

“Yeah, me either.” Deanna swallowed down the eggs from breakfast threatening to come back up. “He doesn’t look like he’s been here too long. Probably since last night.”

Sam had pulled out her phone and was snapping a couple of pictures with a deep frown. “We should call the actual cops now. It doesn’t seem like there’s much else to see besides the marks.”

“Let’s have Ranger Rick down there do the honors. I’d rather be gone before they get here.” Deanna didn’t much feel like getting caught up in a murder investigation just yet.

Sam looked torn, but agreed. “Okay, we can go look at some articles about the previous attacks back in our room, see if there’s an obvious pattern.”

“In the air-conditioning,” Deanna added.

__

“It looks like the chupacabra or whatever is moving north. There have been several attacks near San Antonio, Santa Fe, Durango, and now here over the last five months. Most of them have been livestock, so there are probably some that haven’t been reported, but the one in Durango was also a young kid. The family was camping at the San Juan National Forest when it happened. The markings all seem to match, so I’m pretty sure it can’t be two different killers.”

Deanna was slouched in a chair next to the wall unit, the continuous blast of cold lightly ruffling her hair. She frowned at her sister across the room. “So why the switch? It seems kind of weird that it would suddenly change its eating habits like that.”

“Maybe it caught rabies?” Sam ventured, her brow wrinkling skeptically.

Deanna didn’t think that sounded too implausible, but she laughed anyway. “Right, maybe if it had its shots it would still be sucking goats instead of children.”

Sam stared.

“That came out wrong, didn’t it?” Deanna wasn’t going to apologize, but she had to admit that was a pretty bad lapse of brain-mouth filter. That had been happening all the more often since getting out of Hell. She considered that there was probably some shrink’s wet dream tied up in there, but she didn’t care to prod it herself.

“Just a little bit.” Sam made a face and turned back to her computer. “Okay, I don’t think there’s much else we can do with this until it gets dark. My guess is that it’s hiding somewhere in Mesa Verde, and right now it’s going to be crawling with police. If they don’t scare it away, we might be able to catch it as it goes out to hunt.”

“I am all for waiting until the sun goes away.” Deanna gave a weak thumbs-up and reached for the mini fridge. Sweet nectar, cold beer and a slightly melted green popsicle. She twisted off the cap and started chugging almost before she got her butt back in the chair.

“You’re really obnoxious when you’re hot, by the way.” Sam was packing up her computer and phone. 

“I just got out of Hell, cut me some slack, Samantha. Where are you going?” Deanna had a pretty good idea, but she was feeling nosy and antagonistic.

The annoyed sigh Sam gave was enough to confirm her suspicions. “The library, where else?”

“Uh huh. Get me some pie while you’re out.”

“Get your own damn pie!” Sam was flushed and exasperated as she stomped out the door, yet another clear sign of what she was actually running off to do.

Deanna sighed and leaned back in her chair. She thought about taking a nap, thought about eating the popsicle before it melted, and decided to do neither and drink all the beer instead. That’s what Sam gets when she ditches her for a dickhead demon. She gathers the other five bottles and arranges them on the nightstand, punching random buttons on the inexplicably ultra fancy remote until the blue menu appears. Oh yes, her afternoon was made—six hours of Batman.

About ten minutes into the first episode, Deanna sensed a slight shift in the air, but before it could register completely in her conscious mind, the familiar voice made her almost jump out of her skin.

“Hello, Deanna.”

Her hand tightened automatically around the beer bottle, but she forced herself to release the thin glass before it cracked. She waited a few heartbeats until her stomach shifted back to its proper location. “Hey, Cas. What are you doing here? I thought you were off on angel business all week.”

“I completed my tasks early. Where is Sam?” Castiel didn’t sound suspicious, but there was a subtle note of disdain underlying her words that anyone but Deanna would probably have missed.

“Out,” she answered shortly. Both of them knew, so what was the point of bringing it up? “Come on, sit down and have a beer or something.”

Cas perched on the edge of the bed as Deanna moved over to make space, but refused the proffered beer. Maybe there wasn’t much point in giving one rather weak bottle of alcohol to an angel, but what she wanted was the camaraderie, to not be drinking alone yet again. Cas was not willing to oblige, but, then again, she probably didn’t understand that’s what Deanna needed.

“Batman is on. The good shit from the sixties.” With Cas settling in next to her, Deanna figured the only way to make this afternoon more perfect was a good meal. Sam would probably forget the pie, if there even was any decent pie available in Mancos. 

“What makes this Batman better than the others?” In the months since Deanna had returned from Hell, she had managed to educate Cas on a few Batman movies. Cas took it in stride, though she was suspicious that the angel was merely humoring her rather than being genuinely interested. Then again, she hadn’t been able to catch the TV series lately to introduce Cas to its genius and that was a fucking travesty.

“Adam West, obviously. The classic Batman.” Deanna finished off her first beer and gestured to Cas to hand her another. “It’s all about the spandex.”

“It is rather…revealing.”

“Damn right, it is.”

Cas seemed unable to respond, her eyebrows coming together as she turned her attention back to the screen. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what to make of it yet. Supposedly we’re tracking a chupacabra, but I’m pretty sure those don’t actually exist. Also, it switched from goats to children,” Deanna answered with a frown of displeasure. “Fucking creepy, whatever it is.”

“Chupacabras don’t exist as a single species,” Cas confirmed after a moment of thought. “The chupacabra myth is more like a collage of several different creatures that have similar characteristics. Are you sure it’s the same thing making the killings?”

“Pretty sure. There’s a definite pattern to the incidents—it’s moving north.”

Cas hummed noncommittally and fell silent, for which Deanna was secretly glad. Talking about work wasn’t at all what she felt like doing, particularly because she was still pissed at Sam. Hours of Batman would go far to soothe her raw nerves, and perhaps some other activities as well, if Cas was in the mood afterward.

__

Deanna woke suddenly to the door clicking shut, her head immediately starting up a steady pounding beat, like the movement of her blood was suddenly amplified tenfold. Was she really going to have a hangover from a few beers? Shifting onto her side, she kicked out a leg to gauge how far she was from edge of the bed before trying to move her head. Something landed with a heavy _thunk_ on the industrial strength motel carpet. Oh. There was also that bottle of whiskey, she remembered. 

“Jesus, Dee. At least put some underwear on. I don’t wanna see your naked ass first thing in the morning,” Sam grumbled. There was a faint whiff of coffee and something food-like.

Deanna tried to retort, but it came out garbled and she flipped up her middle finger in the direction of Sam’s voice instead. She felt around the bed for her panties and, not finding them, dragged the sheet around her exposed lower half instead before attempting to sit up. The room tilted, but not as bad as she was expecting.

“Was Cas here last night?” Sam asked, slightly muffled by a bite of whatever she was having for breakfast.

“Uhh…yeah.” Her mouth felt weirdly numb, but that was probably just lack of fluids that were not alcohol. “Angels have magic tongues, I can’t even begin to tell you.”

Behind her, Sam choked a little. “Ew, EW. Don’t…don’t tell me, okay? I really, really do not want to know.”

Deanna grinned to herself. Sweet revenge. Sam had obviously been out all night with Rubin doing God knows what. Her imagination helpfully filled some of the possibilities. “Give me some coffee and I won’t.”

Either Sam had gotten her one or her sister was so desperate to not hear the rest of the story that she offered up her own. Deanna didn’t particularly care which, only that there was a hot steaming cup pressed into her waiting hand.

“So, find any leads at the library?” Deanna felt entitled to be antagonistic. Sure, she could have taken Cas out to scout for the creature instead, but that wasn’t the point. Perhaps that was a bit twisted and wrong to slack off when there was nothing really holding her back, especially when there were young lives involved. And when had she gotten so viciously careless? Was it Sam or Hell clouding her judgment? Deanna figured it didn’t really matter, it was still fucked up and she felt all the worse for it.

There was a good fifteen seconds of silence before Sam answered. “No, but it was busy. I didn’t get to talk to any of the staff.” A flimsy excuse if Deanna ever heard one.

The coffee wasn’t good, but it was warm and opened up her shriveled throat. Deanna felt fortified to stand and make it into the bathroom to shower. “Right. Well, we should get moving then. I’m gonna take a shower.”

When Sam didn’t respond she shuffled into the tiny room with her cup and locked the door. If she spent the next thirty minutes sitting in the tub drinking her coffee with the shower on hot Deanna was not making any apologies. Sam came and banged on the door once bitching about leaving some hot water for the rest of the guests, but Deanna ignored her.

By the time she got out, Deanna was feeling much more human and alert. She wrapped up in a towel and put another around her head. She grinned at her sister as Sam glared at her going through the door.

“Take long enough, princess?”

“I selflessly cut my toilette short just for you, sister dear.”

Sam huffed and disappeared into the steam behind the door. Deanna conveniently didn’t mention she’d taken both the big towels. As she dressed, she felt calmer, having blown off enough steam in the past twelve hours to return to the case with more clarity. The Rubin issue was still there, sitting heavy in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t deal with that now. She wondered where Cas had gotten off to, but she was certain the angel would be back soon, hopefully with news. They could surely use the help on this one.

__

“I think using bait would be the easiest way to at least get a look at it. The Park is not exactly easy to navigate and I don’t relish the idea of jumping into every damn kiva to look for evidence.” Kivas, Deanna thought with a mental shudder, were entirely too dark and enclosed at night. And Mesa Verde had a shit ton of them.

“And where are we supposed to find a goat at nine o’clock at night in Mancos?” Sam shifted her weight, bringing her rifle up to rest against her shoulder. Cas nodded sagely beside her, like she would know anything about the finer points of purchasing goats in small towns. Or maybe she did, having been around in Biblical times and all.

Deanna sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. At least since the sun went down the temperature was dropping quickly to comfortable levels. “Good point.”

“Putting if off until tomorrow doesn’t seem like a good idea. Who knows when it’s going to get hungry again? There isn’t any pattern to the number of days between killings that we could find.”

“Right. Well, let’s do this. Hopefully your buddy, Ranger Rick, won’t be on night watch today.”

Sam made a face at her and all three of them got into the car. After a quick stop at the gas station for extra flashlight batteries, they were on the road to Mesa Verde. Sam pulled out a detailed park map and began examining in closely to find an entrance that wasn’t likely to be patrolled.

They arrived a little after ten a.m., angling past a “road closed” sign that Deanna sincerely hoped did not mean they were about to drive over a cliff. One of the best things about having a black car was that it was less likely to be noticed on most nights. They checked flashlights and Sam handed Deanna a sheet of paper.

“Okay, I managed to find this old map of the original CCC trails. If we use these we should be able to access all the sites pretty easily.” Sam spoke low and pointed to a spot circled in pen. “I think we’re here right now. So let’s agree to check in back by the car in three hours.”

“You…think?” Deanna was liking this plan less. She didn’t relish the idea of getting lost and having to camp out overnight on the rocky ground.

Sam seemed entirely okay with this. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Great.”

Cas was looking around instead of at the map. “I would worry more about malevolent spirits than getting lost,” she commented.

 _And that’s the fucking cherry on top_ , Deanna thought, but decided to keep it to herself. Instead of arguing, she walked around to the trunk and packed her pockets with extra salt rounds. Sam did the same a moment later.

“Alright, three hours? I’ll go west and you go east. Cas can go north.” _So she can get to either of us easier if something goes wrong_ , but Deanna didn’t mention that. Whatever they were hunting, it probably wasn’t a match for a regular adult, let alone a veteran hunter, considering it went after goats and children. Still, she felt the vague tug of apprehension in her gut.

They spread out and went in their assigned directions, dots of light bobbing over the rocky terrain. Cas disappeared first; having no need of a flashlight, she was swallowed into the darkness almost instantly. Sam’s light was visible until she dipped down into a low point on the terrain. Alone, Deanna took a chance and switched off her light, waiting patiently while her eyes adjusted. Small groups of stars began to appear, first the bright ones and then the ones that just looked like scattered dust. There was a narrow moon that barely cast any light, but Deanna found it was enough to pick her way along the trail. This way, at least she would be more aware of movement and hopefully avoid being surprised by chupacabras, ghosts, rangers, or whatever else might be lurking around in such an ancient place.

The night wasn’t half bad, apart from the hunt, with the stars and the light breeze and the otherworldly landscape. Okay, it was downright beautiful, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get lost and have to spend the night out. Especially if Cas were with her. They could spread out her coat to lie on and pick out constellations. She would bet a hundred bucks Cas knew all of them and even some completely new ones, considering how many stars were visible. Maybe she would let Sam drive the car back and stay out here anyway, even if the search proved uneventful and they met as planned. Cas could zap them back to the motel before dawn.

Realistically, Deanna doubted that would happen, but it was a nice fantasy for whiling away the long walk. After about twenty minutes of careful searching, she came upon some ruins, probably the ones she had seen marked on the map. There was no silly name for these like some of the other sites that were popular nowadays or perhaps the name had been forgotten. The nature of these ruins was heavier, realer than the ones crawling with tourists day after day. The quiet and the shadows were deeper between the crumbling dwellings, less grand and therefore largely neglected the benefits of modern conservation. Some dark, small mammal scurried across the path in front of her, the only sign of life so far.

Deanna approached and realized the light of the moon was not enough to safely search the ruins. She took a deep breath and flicked her flashlight back on, painfully aware that she had just lit herself up like a beacon to any nasties that might be lurking close by. Nothing attacked immediately, but that wasn’t very reassuring. Instead of on high ground, this set of ruins was built on a low point. Fortunate for Deanna, at least while she scouted around the edge, as it gave her a superior view. 

Still, nothing moved, and Deanna took that to mean it was time to move in and start checking rooms. All of the roofing had collapsed, and at least one wall on most of the buildings was missing as well. It was easy for her to stand at a fair distance and shine the light into the leftover corners, gun and flashlight held together. Eventually, however, Deanna knew she would have to go down into the kivas, and there was no way to examine those from a safe distance.

She stood on the edge of the opening to the largest kiva, after having found a relatively sturdy looking ladder leaning against a wall. Luckily, it was tall enough to reach to the bottom and still brace a foot over the top. Deanna was reluctantly to put her gun away, but she needed one hand to get down the ladder and the flashlight seemed essential to this situation. The light of the moon had no hope of ever reaching the floor. After a cursory check for obvious movement down in the room, Deanna started climbing, twisted sideways with eyes darting back and forth.

At the bottom, her boot landed on with a crunch on something brittle and Deanna winced at the sharp noise. The circular room was easy to search, and nothing seemed to be out of place. Though, short of finding a body, she wasn’t entirely sure what would constitute abnormal for one of these things. The enclosed space gave her the willies pretty quick, and Deanna scrambled back up the ladder once she was satisfied there was no evidence to be found.

There were two more kivas, but one looked like it had collapsed inward and she ignored it. The final one was much smaller than the first, and somehow deeper. Deanna shook off the chill in her spine as she carefully placed the ladder. It wasn’t really more than a couple of extra inches deeper, but the smaller space made it harder to piece together what she was looking at. Stepping onto the ladder caused every fiber of Deanna’s being to rebel against the illogical choice to go down, and the smell of damp soil and pine flashed across her memory. She paused, gagging a little and trying to resist the powerful urge to flee. Fuck, this was a terrible plan. They should have waited and used bait.

Through sheer force of stubbornness, Deanna closed her eyes and dropped the last foot from the ladder to the floor. Something shifted behind her, a rough whisper of coarse fabric. Spinning, Deanna had her gun and light pointed toward the sound before she could even process the possibilities. There was a lump near the edge of the room, not five feet from her, and it was moving. The head-shaped part moved, turning towards her, and the blanket slipped away to reveal two massive eyes, a pushed up nose, and gigantic bat-like ears. It was the ugliest damn face Deanna had ever seen. In the space of two heartbeats they stared at each other. Then it screamed.

“Son of a bitch!” Deanna shouted, so surprised she dropped her flashlight. The cheap piece of shit went out instantly. Plunged into darkness, the next several seconds were utter chaos. Deanna lunged, intending to take a wild swing with the butt of her gun, but she felt a hand on her breast and a weak shove, and she staggered sideways a step from the momentum of uncalculated movements. Dropping into a crouch, she felt around for the flashlight, breathing coming up short. Her hand closed around the hilt and she fumbled the button, flooding half the room in much appreciated light. 

The creature was gone, probably fled up the ladder she had so conveniently left in place. Was that a bad thing? Deanna wasn’t so sure. Unidentified monsters, she had learned over the years, were usually better left alone until better information could be acquired. And this one had seemed more scared of her than she of it. Fuck, even the blanket was gone, just a small indentation in the dirt where it had been laying was all that was left.

“Deanna?” Cas’s voice drifted down through the entrance. Deanna couldn’t see her face, but the mere suggestion of the angel’s presence was enough to lift a weight of dread off her shoulders.

“Did you see it?” she called back. “The man…bat.”

“No, I didn’t.” Cas sounded perplexed, and the shift in the volume of her voice indicated she had moved to scan the area.

Deanna made a dash up the ladder, but the ancient wood finally gave way and she crashed back to the floor. “Hey, hey come back here. Get me the fuck out of this hole.”

When Cas didn’t immediately reappear, Deanna felt her throat tighten slightly as she stared up toward the opening, feeling that it looked a lot smaller than it did earlier. After a moment, a fresh ladder eased down, and she climbed up more carefully this time. “Taking your sweet time, huh?” she said accusingly upon emerging from the kiva.

“My apologies, I had to find a ladder since you don’t like to be ‘zapped’ around.” Cas was completely serious, which was oddly relieving. Sam probably would have teased her relentlessly for two days.

“Let’s…let’s not mention this to my sister, okay?” Out under the massive night sky she could breathe easier.

Cas nodded once and put her hand on Deanna’s arm. “Alright. Are you—?”

“Fine, I’m fine, Cas. Just…uhh…that was one freaky ass critter.” She was grateful that Cas pretended not to have any inkling of the real problem. Man-Bat was a nasty surprise, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a seasoned hunter.

“What did it look like?” Cas kept her hand loosely wrapped around Deanna’s arm as they started walking back up to the path. With any luck, the creature would not have gotten too far yet, but so far her flashlight wasn’t even turning up tracks.

“Mostly like a person, but it had huge eyes and a pug nose and bat ears.” She paused to emphasize these features with her free hand. “Man-Bat. Batman. Fuck, it was like some mutant version of Batman.” 

“That certainly doesn’t sound like anything that might be mistaken for a chupacabra,” Cas replied, perplexed. “Did he talk to you?”

“No, it just screamed and ran away. I probably could have tackled it if I hadn’t been so surprised. That is definitely _not_ what I was expecting the killer to look like. If he even is the killer. There was nothing down in the kiva besides a ratty old blanket, and that he took with him. Either way, we have to catch this weirdo and see what he knows. Let’s get back and find Sam.”

And there went her fantasy to spend the night with Cas out under the stars. Ruined by a screaming asshole that carried a twisted resemblance to her favorite superhero. What a fucking weird night.

__

“What you’re describing sounds an awful lot like Bat Boy,” Sam said, disbelief written all over her face.

“Oh shit, you’re right. I forgot about that little fucker. Do you think this has something to do with the Trickster? The Bat Boy story has Trickster written all over it.” Deanna dropped her feet down from the table, shocked that she hadn’t made the connection right away after seeing Man-Bat’s ugly mug in the kiva. Then again, she hadn’t been entirely focused.

Sam considered that option seriously while she scrolling through the Bat Boy Wikipedia page. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a possibility. Hey, it says here that Bat Boy is a chronic car thief, which would explain the trail of murders over such a huge area. And he bites children and sucks their blood through a…straw.”

Deanna looked at Cas and gave a hopeful shrug, but the angel seemed remarkably skeptical. “It’s the best lead we’ve got right now.” Cas said nothing.

“Are you going to say what’s on your mind, feathers, or just sit there looking constipated?”

“Well…” Cas started slowly, “…if this is the work of your trickster, why is this creature out on it’s own? It seems unlikely that there’s any motive to just let it loose on the world, from what you’ve told me about your past experience with him. There might be another explanation for…Man-Bat.”

“Either way, we gotta catch up to him,” Sam said. “Listening in on the police radios for reports of stolen cars or new attacks is probably our best bet.”

“Great, more sitting on our asses,” Deanna said cheerfully. “So much for this being an in-and-out job. Come on, Cas, let’s go down the gas station and get something to eat while Sam sets up the radio. Anything you want to snack on, Sammy?”

“Yogurt?” Sam answered hopefully while she started sorting out cords.

Deanna snorted as she walked out the door with Cas on her heels. “Yeah good luck with that.”

It was late and she was tired, so Deanna insisted on driving, though they didn’t have far to go. Cas settled in the passenger seat, her full lips pursed thoughtfully and eyes focused on some point in the distance. The look made Deanna uneasy, because it probably meant either she was about to hear some horrible revelation on the case or Cas was about to ask her something personal and was trying to think of a human way to soften the blow.

“Out with it,” she finally said as they pulled into the gas station parking lot. She put the Impala in park and crossed her arms, making no move to open the door. Cas had been awfully quiet since they’d arrived in Mancos, particularly since the incident with Man-Bat.

“What happened in the kiva? Not with the creature, I mean with you. It’s not like you to become so agitated over a small mishap.” Okay, so Cas was just going to be completely blunt about it.

Deanna opened her mouth to make a smartass answer, but reconsidered. Cas was obviously worried, though Deanna thought she might be blowing things out of proportion for the amount of panic she had expressed. Then again, maybe it was more obvious than she had hoped that she was not handling certain aspects of the job as well as she should be. “You didn’t see his face, that thing was creepy as fuck. And it _screamed_ at me, that’s pretty alarming.”

“That’s not what I mean, Deanna.” Cas was staring at her now, which was entirely unnerving, like those big blue eyes were mining the inner recesses of her subconscious. “Does this have something to do with Hell?” she continued quietly.

“Shit…maybe.” That wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t Hell, it was waking up in a pine box and digging her way out, feeling every moment the dirt clogging her nostrils would make its way into her throat and lungs to suffocate her. “The kivas were a little too dark and earthy and underground for my enjoyment these days.”

Cas seemed to consider her answer for several seconds. “I understand and I apologize for not being there.” Of course she worked it out, the real issue wasn’t that difficult to guess, for which Deanna mentally kicked herself.

The atmosphere in the car turned uncomfortable, silence falling thick. Deanna shifted, pulling the keys out of the ignition though they made a jarring noise. “Don’t worry about it,” she finally said with a shrug. “That’s just how things went.”

Cas’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, her grip tight but not painful. “No, I really am sorry. I should have been there when you woke up.”

“Cas, chill. It’s fine, I’ll deal.” Her hand covered Cas’s, resting lightly at first, but then prying her loose. Cas let go only reluctantly, her expression unreadable. “Let’s get our stuff and get back.”

__

The gas station didn’t have yogurt. Instead, they bought Sam a suspect can of pineapple with a dent and a label that was two different greens depending on if you were looking at the side facing the window or the shelving unit. When she made a face, Deanna claimed it was the “healthiest” thing they could come up with. That was essentially the truth—Deanna and Cas were munching on jerky and ninety-nine cent Lay’s. Sam was surreptitiously stealing chips from Deanna’s bag, and she smiled to herself and pretended not to notice.

The two sisters slept a little, in shifts so one of them was still monitoring the radio, after having been up the entire night previously. Now, it was late afternoon, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened yet. Either Man-Bat was still in town and lying low, or the owner of the car he stole was taking their sweet time about reporting it missing. Deanna switched on the TV, finding the same channel was playing more Batman episodes, much to her delight.

“Oh, this is what we were watching the other day. Adam West, you like him,” Cas said, looking pleased with herself for having remembered. She held up a sketch on a thin hotel notepad. “With the mask on her bears a resemblance to your drawing of Man-Bat.”

Deanna stopped sorting newspaper clippings and stared at Cas. Sam stopped tapping away on her laptop and stared at Deanna. “…Adam West? You’re kidding me.”

No one said anything for a moment, though Cas was smiling uncertainly. Sam’s eyes were narrowed. Deanna tensed, sensing one wrong move would be the end of their carefully constructed prank truce. “Cas, I told you that in the strictest confidence.”

“But his butt does look nice in spandex,” she replied earnestly, probably in a very misguided attempt at solidarity. Deanna groaned inwardly.

Sam sniffed and looked back to her computer screen. Deanna eyed her sister warily across the bed. “Don’t even start. I was twelve, okay? Christian Bale Batman didn’t exist yet and he was too beefy in the comics for my tastes.” 

She received an innocent shrug in return. “Whatever, dude. I’m just trying to work here.” Sam was clearly plotting, but she was being smart about it.

Maybe there wasn’t much point in retaliating before she knew what Sam was going to do, but it was tempting. Very tempting. Deanna looked over at Cas, who was intently watching the TV; there was almost no hope of getting her help on this anyway. At least she had good taste.

The radio crackled over the banal chatter that had been going on since they’d turned it on, and it drew Deanna’s attention back to the task. Sam looked up as well at the sound of the new voice. Missing car, tourist at Mesa Verde, white BMW from 2007, rental. Deanna thought that sounded like a stretch. “A car like that? In broad daylight?”

“Why not? He’s probably a pro if he made it all the way from Mexico stealing cars,” Sam said. “And going for rentals is a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen this guy. There’s no way he could blend into a crowd. He must be getting desperate.” Deanna dropped back on the bed, angling herself so she could still see the TV lying down. Her hand found Cas’s foot and started playing with her toes. “Now what? Just because he stole a car doesn’t mean we’re going to know if they find it and where.”

“You’re right,” Sam sighed. “Maybe it’s time we worked with the cops on this.”

__

Officer Burke was tall, tanned, and a bit round in the middle. He had a bit of a receding hairline and was very friendly. If Deanna didn’t harbor an inherent mistrust of the authorities, she would have found him pleasant. As it stood, at least she could admit that he was helpful. She had brought Cas with her, for a change, instead of Sam, while her sister was continuing to monitor the radio. Her neat appearance lent some credibility to their story, as there was nowhere in town for Deanna to get a pantsuit. Cas was hanging back while Deanna talked, looking over the wanted posters pinned to a board near the front desk.

“Officer, we’re looking for any reports on stolen cars in the area in the last forty-eight hours.” She flashed her FBI badge. “We’re on the trail of a suspected serial killer and we have reason to believe he may have been in the area.”

Burke nodded and reached for an open folder. “Wait…does this have something to do with the body of that kid that was found down in Mesa Verde the other day?”

“We think so.”

“That’s a damn shame, I hope you catch this guy soon.” Burke handed her a short report on the stolen rental car, most of which Deanna already knew. “Looks like they found this car just over the Utah border, near Monticello. I’d say head out there to start. I can call ahead for you, make sure they have a heads up on the situation. My buddy works out there.”

Deanna didn’t know how that could help in this case, since Man-Bat was probably already in hiding, but she figured it couldn’t hurt either. “That would be great, thanks. You’ve been very helpful, officer.”

“No problem, miss. Glad to see someone going after this son of a bitch.”

Burke turned away to get the phone and Cas nudge Deanna with her elbow. “Look, that picture.” The man in the photo was wanted for murder and other atrocities in two western states after having escaped prison, but the interesting part was the figure in the back. The blurring didn’t help, but the shape of the head was very similar to Man-Bat.

“Huh. What do you think it means?” Deanna was stumped. Either this man was an accomplice or he was the real brains of the operation and Man-Bat was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or it could be a bizarre coincidence. Fake chupacabras should not be this complicated.

Cas shook her head. “I don’t know, but that pin on his shirt is the Enochian word for the antichrist.”

Deanna and Cas were silent as they left the police station to get in the car. Cas looked troubled, though she wasn’t likely to say why. “Where do you think he got it? That guy’s not an angel, is he?”

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. “But I think if we find Man-Bat we may find this man as well.”  
__

Once they crossed into Utah and checked into a new motel, Deanna and Cas went to find the police station. Monticello was a small town with two main streets, so it wasn’t hard to find where they needed to go. Burke’s friend was on duty, and he wasn’t what Deanna expected. Officer King was average in every way—average height, average weight, average looks. He had an easy smile, but there was something off that Deanna couldn’t quite put her finger on. She shook off the feeling, and asked about the stolen car.

“Well, ladies, I’m afraid there isn’t much to say. We found the car just outside of town, but there’s no trace of the thief. If this guy is a serial killer, as you say, then he’s pretty good at covering his tracks.” King closed the folder after showing her photos of the car. “Maybe if you had some idea of what he looks like…?”

Deanna sighed. These dead ends were getting on nerves. Cas, though silent for the entire exchange, suddenly spoke up. She pointed at an identical wanted sign to the one in Mancos, depicting the man with the Enochian pin and the shadowy figure of Man-Bat. “That man.”

“Bret Berger, you mean?” King pulled down the sign and set it on the desk for them to see. “Stealing cars isn’t really his MO as far as we know. This guy is completely off the grid. We have no idea where he could be.”

Cas stared at King for several seconds and didn’t comment. Deanna decided that was her cue to cut this meeting short and leave Man-Bat out of the equation for the time being. “Thanks for your help, officer. We’ll be in touch soon.”

Deanna waited until they were safely on their way back to the motel before speaking again. “Okay, is it just me or was there something weird about that guy?”

“Yes,” Cas said hesitantly. “I think he knows something about Berger that he’s not telling us.”

“Well, shit. What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure. I need to…I need to go check on something,” Cas answered, clearly distracted. Before Deanna could question her further, she was gone.

“Yeah, don’t say goodbye or anything,” Deanna muttered as she pulled into the motel parking lot. She could see Sam through a gap in the curtains, bent over her laptop, as expected. What did she do for so many hours on that thing? _Probably watch porn_ , Deanna thought with a smirk.

“Hey,” Sam said without looking up when she heard Deanna enter. “How did it go?”

“Dead end.” Deanna dropped down onto the other bed, sprawling and kicking off her boots onto the floor. “I don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Where’s Cas?” Sam tossed a candy bar over to her.

“Shit, I don’t know. She said she was going to check something out.” Honestly, Deanna was a little bit pissed with Cas for leaving at the exact moment when she was at a complete loss. Obviously Cas had some idea, but she was being frustratingly closed-mouthed about it. “Angel business, I guess.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and shut her laptop. Her phone buzzed on the pillow next to her, and she snatched it up quickly. Sam quirked her lips down and scrolled through whatever message she had received. “Bobbi says she doesn’t know about anything like Man-Bat, but she’ll check around.”

Perhaps Deanna was imagining it, but she thought a flicker of disappointment played across her sister’s face. Waiting for Rubin, then. Goddammit. “Well, I’m gonna get a little shut-eye. Wake me if anything comes up.”

“Sure,” Sam said absently, fiddling with the police radio to turn the volume down. She put the TV on at a low volume, something inane like infomercials or old sitcoms. As Deanna started dozing, she would bet her right hand Sam wouldn’t be there when she woke up.  
__

The clock glared two in the morning. Deanna squinted at the numbers, uncomprehending at first, but then realizing that she had actually slept unhindered for a fair amount of time. She felt drowsy and oddly relaxed, an unusual state of being for her lately. The room was dark, but the TV was still on and she could see that Sam’s bed had not been slept in. Upon looking around the rest of the room, she could also see that Cas was still missing, though it was entirely possible that she had been there partaking of her creepy habit of watching Deanna sleep and left again.

Without turning on the light, Deanna found her shoes and pulled them on. She buttoned her pants and tucked her knife in her belt. She was starving; it wasn’t likely there would be anything substantial to eat in the vending machines, but at least it would be something to put in her stomach until dawn. After grabbing a room key and a handful of change, she went out and stood on the porch for a moment to get her bearings. Maybe there would be a coffee machine.

The outdoor lights had a hideous orange tint, and it made her eyes twinge after the dark room. The air was cool and served to help wake her up a bit even without caffeine. She wondered again where Cas was and if she would return before the night was over. After such a good sleep and with Sam off somewhere, Deanna was feeling very much like this was a wasted opportunity. 

There were two vending machines, one for snacks and one for drinks, but no coffee. Deanna got a Coke instead and two packages of Pinwheels. Yeah, that wasn’t so bad for a midnight snack. Deanna turned to head back to her room and encountered a solid presence blocking her way. She dropped her food and automatically reached for the knife in her belt, but someone grabbed her arm from behind and twisted until she had to let go. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” she yelped, thrashing as an arm came around her neck, holding her fast despite her struggles.

“FBI, huh?” Officer King was standing in front of her, still in uniform and holding a nightstick against his shoulder. “Well, I ran your badge and they didn’t seem to know anything about you, sweetheart. Where’s your partner? I don’t know what kind of little game you two are playing, but I think you asked one too many questions for a pretty girl.”

Deanna couldn’t see who was behind her, but she could take a wild guess that this had something to do with Bret Berger. “And I think you’re ugly as sin, but who’s keeping track?” She shifted her weight and aimed her boot at King’s shin. It connected, but not hard enough from her position to do more than rock him back slightly. In fact, it was probably the stupidest thing she could have done, because as soon as he recovered his balance he hit her across the face with the stick. Hard.  
__

 

Deanna groaned. Her head felt split open and she fully expected to see brains mashed into the hard ground around her when she opened her eyes. There was red dust but no gray matter, not even any blood. Not that she would be opening her eyes at all if there did happen to be part of her brain on the ground, but Deanna wasn’t thinking very clearly yet. At least the lack of blood was probably a good sign.

Footsteps rustled the dust near Deanna’s head. “Where’m I?” she slurred, trying to force her sluggish thoughts to catch up with what was happening. 

“Blanding,” said a male voice. “Well, a few miles outside of Blanding.”

Into her vision swam a vaguely human face, but it was rounder and had tall pointed ears and saucer-like eyes. That was not a face she associated with such a normal voice. Jesus. “Gah.”

Man-Bat looked hurt, which was an odd expression on such a face. Anything but screaming psychosis would look odd on that face. “What?”

“Ugly,” Deanna managed. She tried to move the rest of her body a little and discovered her hands and feet were bound. She was lying on her side and it felt like she was still wearing clothes, so her situation could definitely be worse.

“Oh…yeah. I know. And you’re not so nice looking yourself,” Man-Bat shot back. He didn’t hit her, though obviously she had been beaten up quite a bit already. That seemed odd, but she wasn’t sure why yet.

Someone, probably Man-Bat, was pulling her upright and it made her head swim. A rough, hard surface scraped against her arms and back, and Deanna slumped forward instead; it was less unpleasant than leaning against her bound arms. She started to assess her injuries as best she could without being able to use her hands or see very well. One eye was almost swollen shut, probably from the nightstick. Bits of the previous night started coming back—King’s creepy face, getting hit in the face, waking up in the back of a van and getting hit again. There were two men, King and someone else, though she didn’t think it had been Man-Bat. The voice was wrong. Obviously the three were working together, since he was here now.

Man-Bat sat on a rock across from her, crossing his arms and legs. Now that she could get a good look at him, he was wearing khakis and a plaid button-down shirt and sneakers. The whole effect was surreal. “Why am I here?”

“Look…I’m sorry about this, it’s not me, its them. I’m supposed to have a…a destiny or something.” He was obviously hedging, and Deanna didn’t like wear it was going.

“Get to the point,” Deanna growled. She was able to take in a little bit of her surroundings now, and nothing looked familiar. Nor were there any buildings close by that she could see.

“Well…” Man-Bat took a deep breath. “They…we are going to use you for a human sacrifice. Before you say anything, I know that sounds bad, but it’s _necessary_. That’s what Bret says. We have to bring about the end of the world.”

“The end of the world,” Deanna repeated with a snort. She didn’t reply right away, but Man-Bat didn’t seem to want to offer more detail. “Are you fucking kidding me? You, the overgrown mutant Bat Boy, are going to bring about the Apocalypse? And how do you expect to manage that?”

“I have a name, you know.” Man-Bat sounded hurt. “It’s Leslie Gifford. And I’m the Antichrist, if it matters.”

With a face like that, he might as well be. But Deanna had doubts about the truth of his claim. There was something unusual going on, but the Apocalypse seemed quite beyond this odd little group, whatever they thought they were representing. “Great, let’s get on with it, then, _Leslie_. Raising the Devil and raining fire and brimstone or whatever. How exactly is my death supposed to help, by the way? I don’t think a few goats, a couple of children, and one woman is anything out of the ordinary in the life of a serial killer.”

Leslie looked troubled, as if he hadn’t had much confidence in the plan even without Deanna’s needling. Good, maybe she could get out of this more easily than she thought. “I don’t know, Bret’s in charge of the details. I mostly just follow his lead. The switch from goats to children was a little odd, but, hey, kids are kids, right?” He gave a nervous laugh.

“Yeah…right,” Deanna fixed her gaze on him and stared with as much utter disgust as she could muster with just one good eye. “Just because you’re the Antichrist doesn’t mean you have to go along with this crap, you know. You’re a free agent, not a sock puppet.”

Leslie looked startled and it was a horrifying expression. “But it’s destiny. You can’t go against that kind of thing.”

Before Deanna could argue, they were interrupted by King and a man she didn’t recognize. The stranger was doing a great impression of a brick wall as they came to stand near her. “We’re almost ready. Bret is just putting the finishing touches on the altar,” King said. “Tonight might be the night.”

“Okay, I should go get changed, I guess.” Leslie got up off the rock and turned to leave. He waggled his fingers at Deanna as he passed her. “See you later.”

As soon as he was out sight, King planted his boot in Deanna’s stomach, then grabbed her hair and yanked her head back to look up at his face. “You’re gonna cooperate, hunter, or I’ll make sure this is as slow and painful as possible.”

Deanna grinned and spit in his face. She missed, but it was a satisfying act of rebellion nonetheless. King bared his teeth and let go of her hair, though the restraint throbbed in the muscles of his forehead. He cut the ropes from around her ankles and recoiled before she could aim a kick. The brick wall had moved behind her and started pulling her upright. Gracelessly, Deanna hobbled along with him, feeling his wheezing breath against her hair. He reeked of old cigarettes, but at least he didn’t bother talking to her.

Over the edge of small cliff, she could see where Berger and his lackeys had set up a crude altar, which was really just a plank set across two large stones, with some symbols scratched into the dirt and drawn on the wood. Some were familiar, and some were not, though they looked Enochian. If Cas showed up before she was eviscerated she would have to ask. 

The cliff sloped off on one end, and Deanna was dragged down, stumbling over her own feet. King followed behind, unfortunately, so she had no chance of going on the offensive. At the bottom, she looked over the small circle of people around the altar, with Berger in the center. Leslie appeared from what looked like an outhouse a few yards away, dressed in stereotypical black robes with a big inverted silver cross around his neck. He looked ridiculous, like a poorly realized B-movie demon, and Deanna would have laughed under different circumstances.

The moment Deanna and her captors neared the circle the group started a low chant, which sounded like Latin but she couldn’t make out more than a few of the words. Deanna started struggling as soon as they broke into the center, until King bent down and grabbed up her legs. She managed a solid kick to the shoulder before he got a better grip. “Let go, you goddamn psychos,” Deanna growled.

They laid her on the plank and held her down while Berger tied her to it with rope. Okay, so her situation was getting to be dire. _Anytime now, girls. Could use a little help here._

Leslie came to stand near her head, looking apologetic, the bastard. If he was so concerned then why hadn’t he let her go earlier? “Sorry about this. Really.”

Ha, that was rich. Deanna glared. “Fuck you.” Leslie had the audacity to look hurt. He really was that naïve, apparently.

Berger stuffed something rough and nasty into her mouth. It ground against her teeth and tasted like ash and salt and charred herbs. “Brothers and sisters,” he began, holding up both hands, one of which was holding a simple kitchen knife. What a farce!

“We are gathered here to witness the ascension of the Antichrist,” he paused while some agreeable mutters passed through the group, “to his intended place as the Price of Hell on Earth.”

Deanna wondered how long the ceremony was supposed to last. The longer the better. The ropes around her were tight, pressing on painfully on her bruised body, and the bundle in her mouth were making it hard to concentrate on anything but its acrid taste. The situation was hopeless without help. Surely Sam would have been back to their room by now and noticed she was missing. Deanna didn’t want to go back to Hell. Oh God, she didn’t want to go back. The dull sheen of Alastair’s pet knife flickered behind her eyelids every time she blinked.

“And we, brothers and sisters, will bear witness to this glorious event,” Berger continued. His movements gained a grotesque flourish and several more unidentifiable charms, one of which looked like the dried out husk of a bat. Gross.

Before Berger could get another word out, all the terrible glory of Heaven descended upon their macabre little ceremony. Or at least that’s what it must have looked like to anyone that wasn’t used to pissed off angels. Satanic followers cowered everywhere. Leslie screamed. Berger’s eyes burned out of his head within seconds of Cas touching him. After Pamela, Deanna wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, though she did feel vindicated that it had happened to her captor. Cas went overboard anyway and he dropped dead as soon as she let go. 

Most of the cult scattered as soon as they got their wits about them, including Leslie, and Cas caught the stragglers and the ones too scared to move. In all likelihood none of them had really believed in Berger’s plan, but the appearance of an honest to goodness angel had been too real for them. Deanna would have smirked if she could close her lips. Cas was terrifying when she was like this, her hands burning so hot that the ropes around Deanna fell away with a single touch.

Deanna barely sat up on the plank and got the…thing…out of her mouth (it turned out to look exactly as it tasted—an indeterminate lump of charring) before Cas was grabbing her shoulders and kissing her hard.

“Whoa, whoa, oowww,” Deanna pulled away, the bruises and cuts around her mouth throbbing from the abuse. “Maybe we can wait until we get back to the room for this? The nasty taste in my mouth is kind of a boner killer. Not to mention the headache,” she rasped.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said gently, drawing back and loosening her grip. “Sam went north with the car, it would be much faster if I took you back to the room myself.”

“A fitting end to a shitty day,” Deanna laughed. “Alright, just make it quick. The ground is already spinning a little.”

Cas raised her hand and Deanna blacked out.

__

Deanna startled awake and immediately wished she was still unconscious. Everything ached, and her eye was still badly swollen. Cas must have put her to sleep before heading back to the motel, that little sneak. Still, it has probably been for the best, since at least she felt rested despite the dreams that had ultimately woken her up. The nasty taste still coated her tongue, and her whole mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. Deanna swung her legs over the edge of the bed though every muscle was screaming to stop.

Cas was sitting in a chair by the window staring at apparently nothing, since the curtains were closed, but she turned as soon as she heard Deanna moving around. “How are you?”

Deanna grunted; she needed something to wet her mouth desperately before any conversation was going to happen. There was a half empty plastic cup of flat soda on the nightstand, which she swallowed in one gulp. Not very appetizing, but a bit better than the charcoal taste. “Been worse. Been better, too, though. Where’s Sam?”

Cas hesitated. “She said she had an errand to run.”

“Figures,” Deanna muttered. “Is there coffee?”

“No, but I can go get some, if you like.”

“Later. Right now I just want you to tell me what the fuck actually happened.” Though she hobbled most of the way, Deanna made it to the chair opposite Cas at the tiny breakfast table. “Berger seemed like he sort of knew what he was doing. Leslie…Man-Bat, said they were trying to bring about the Apocalypse, that he was the Antichrist. That sounds like your jurisdiction.”

Cas made a mild noise and suspiciously didn’t answer. Instead she reached across the table to Deanna’s hand in an obvious ploy to distract her. Deanna snatched her hand out of the way. “Oh no, you know something. And you’re not getting out of this.”

While she looked supremely unhappy, Cas did answer after a moment of thought. “I did find out some things when I was away in Heaven, yes. Apparently…there was an experiment about thirty years ago. Two demons escaped Hell and tried to make the Antichrist based on some lore they had heard. They…failed, obviously.”

“Is it really that obvious? Because Berger seemed to know an awful lot of real shit.”

“He wasn’t one of the demons, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cas said. “Berger was never possessed.”

“I’m missing something. Where did he get all those sigils and that chant?”

“I don’t know.” Cas was looking out the window again. 

Deanna couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she still withholding something, something critical, but she backed off. “So Man-Bat is the product of some unholy union? But it went wrong and he ended up a weird mutant bat thing?”

“Yes, the lore among demons is shady at best. It’s unsurprising that they failed.”

“Wait, wait…so it IS possible to create the Antichrist? This is a real thing?” Deanna’s mouth dropped open, or at least as far as the swelling would allow.

Cas nodded, but her mouth tightened at the corners. Clearly, pushing this conversation wasn’t going to get anywhere. Deanna sighed and put her hand back out for Cas to hold. She seemed pleased, her smooth thumb running in wide sweeps over the back of Deanna’s hand. “Thanks, by the way. For saving my ass back there. I thought….” She almost said, _I thought I was going back_ , but decided against it. Cas probably knew anyway.

“I’m glad I was able to be there for you this time,” Cas told her, voice low and serious. Sometimes Deanna wished her angel would smile more, but she couldn’t deny that voice was a serious turn on.

Before she could suggest they take their discussion over to the bed, Sam returned unexpectedly. “Oh hey, you’re up. How are you feeling?”

Deanna raised her eyebrows. “Umm…better. I think. Where were you?” She hadn’t really meant to ask that, since it seemed like exactly the wrong time to bring up the Rubin problem, but it slipped out anyway.

Sam barely flinched. She set down a bag and a cup in front of Deanna, followed by a small box with postal markings. “I was getting you something to eat and I had an errand to run. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Inside was some sort of horrendous microwaved breakfast sandwich, probably from the gas station. It smelled amazing and Deanna wasted no time. Even if it didn’t taste as good as it smelled the grease would get the burning out of her mouth. “I love you, sis,” she mumbled around a huge bite.

Sam settled back on the bed with her own coffee looking decidedly smug. Over a breakfast sandwich that seemed entirely uncalled for. “Open the box,” Sam urged.

With her free hand Deanna turned it over a couple of times, looking for any indication of what might be inside. It was addressed to one of Sam’s aliases at a PO box in Monticello, with a perfectly ordinary return address and some postage. “How did you get this so quickly?”

“Overnight shipping. It was a stroke of luck, really. Come on, open it.” Sam had a gleeful glint in her eyes that made Deanna wary.

She and Cas exchanged a discreet glance over the table. If Cas knew what was inside, she kept a perfect poker face. “Okay, give me that knife.”

“Careful,” Sam warned and handed it over.

Now she was really intrigued. Deanna dropped her food back on the wrapper in favor of getting the box open as quickly as possible. There was a bit of packing material and nestled inside that was…Batman. Specifically, an Adam West-style, probably vintage, Batman doll with actual clothes. He was missing a boot and his cape was held on with a small heart pin. Sam couldn’t hold it in any long and absolutely crowed with laughter. 

“To commemorate that time you met the real life Batman!” Sam explained when she could talk again.

In a surprisingly display of primness Cas covered her mouth with one hand. Obviously, she was laughing too, but had the sense to try and hide it. Deanna was torn between beating her sister’s face in and giggling like a schoolgirl. “You’re an insensitive bitch, Samantha.”

“Come on, you basically got kidnapped by _Batman_. Tell me that is not hilarious.”

“Ha-fucking-ha.” Oh God, she was never going to be able to watch Batman again.

__

They found Leslie completely by accident at a poorly lit gas station outside Salt Lake City in the middle of the night. He had on a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled low over his face and he was pumping gas into a decently expensive car. Sam eased the Impala into a dark parking space on the side, out of his immediate line of sight, and the three of them slipped out. Cas got there first, grabbing Leslie from behind and clapping a hand over his mouth before she dragged him back into the shadows. 

“Are you going to scream if she lets go? Because I can pull the trigger much faster than you can get help.” Sam said, leveling her gun directly at Leslie’s face. He shook his head as well as he could behind Cas’s hand, eyes alarmingly wide, which was saying a lot for their size. Cas slowly removed her hand, but she didn’t let go of her grip on his arm. Leslie sucked in a deep breath and whimpered, but didn’t scream, as promised.

“You know if you had just stuck with goats instead of listening to that psychopath Berger we wouldn’t have had to come after you.” Deanna had put her gun away and crossed her arms. “Let’s talk, Bat Boy.”

“Okay, okay! Please don’t shoot me!” Leslie squeaked meekly. “Can I sit down?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam conceded, but didn’t lower the gun. 

Cas led him to sit on the front bumper of the car, which Deanna didn’t particularly like, but there wasn’t anywhere else. “You know you’re not really the Antichrist, right?”

“No? Yes?” Leslie had barely had time to catch his breath. At least he hadn’t fainted. “I didn’t know anything about that before I met Bret. I’m not the Antichrist?”

“No, you are a failed experiment,” Cas told him. She was standing way too close, and while the proximity was succeeding in making Leslie stay put, it was also clearly making him very uncomfortable.

“Way to be subtle, Cas,” Deanna rolled her eyes.

Leslie suddenly looked on the verge of tears. It was not a good look for him. “I’m an…experiment?”

“Look, I don’t like you, I don’t like that your cult tried to murder me, and I really don’t like that you ruined Batman for me forever, but we need information so could you try not to cry for five minutes?” Deanna wanted to slap him too, but that probably wouldn’t have helped the situation.

Nodding, Leslie took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “What do you want to know?”

“That’s more like it. As we’ve already established, you’re not the Antichrist. How did you meet these crackpots?” Deanna spoke slowly and evenly in the hopes that he wouldn’t scare half to death again.

“Well…I used to live in Mexico. I wasn’t born there, I was born in West Virginia, but I took a trip to Mexico when I was eighteen and just decided to stay.” Leslie had a fond expression on his face, or at least Deanna assumed that was fond. “I lived in an isolated area near the beach. I tried to be good and eat normal food, I really did, but goats are just so appetizing, you know? I couldn’t help slipping up sometimes.”

The three women stared. Leslie cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. “…Anyway, I think that’s how Bret found me, the goat attacks around Mexico. He thought it was a sign of the Apocalypse or something.”

Sam snorted. “And you decided to follow this guy around the continent? Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”

“You guys can’t understand! I’d never really had a friend before, and Bret basically worshipped me. I couldn’t turn that down.”

“Not even when he started telling you to kill children instead of goats?” Deanna was leaning against the wall of the gas station, close enough to converse but keeping a safe distance.

“Well…I was starting to believe him. I mean, he really seemed to know what he was talking about, with all those symbols and spells. The others, I didn’t know much about them. We’d just met in Colorado. But I had friends that didn’t mind my…my face and that seemed like the most important thing.”

“You are one sad son of a bitch. Did he ever say where he got all that information about the rituals and stuff?” Deanna didn’t have high hopes, considering Leslie was pretty clueless on most of the details.

“He said the guy’s name was Zachariah.” Leslie shrugged. “I never met him, though.”

Out of the corner of her eye Deanna saw Cas startle, which added another layer of odd onto the entire situation. “Thanks, uhh, Leslie. That’s enough.”

Sam looked surprised, but she didn’t question Deanna’s decision, fortunately. This needed to be to be between her and Cas, whatever was going on, especially with Rubin in the picture. “So…what are we going to do with him?”

That was a very good question. Despite everything that had happened because of Leslie Gifford, Deanna couldn’t imagine killing him. For a mutant demon spawn he was more pathetic and misguided than evil incarnate. “Nothing. Just let him go, he obviously doesn’t know anything useful.”

Sam looked surprised and faintly pleased as her decision. Cas was again impassive despite whatever had unsettled. She moved away the car, and Leslie tensed to bolt. “Thank you. And don’t worry, I’ll stick to goats from now on.”

“That’s great, I guess. Now scram before I change my mind, ugly. Stay out of the papers and maybe we won’t have to reeducate you again.”

“I’ll try,” Leslie assured them with a tentative grin. “I think I’m going to check out Canada for a while.” He hurried off back to his car, giving Sam and her gun a wide berth.

“And stop stealing cars!” Sam called after him.

“Hypocrite.” Deanna kicked her sister in the ankle and gave her a pointed look. “Hey, Cas, let’s take a walk while Sam fills up the tank, alright?”

Cas agreed and followed Deanna away from the parking lot. Deanna spent a moment looking out at the sky, which was less impressive than at Mesa Verde, but still a decent desert sky. She toyed with idea of forgetting the entire confrontation and asking Cas to go back to the park with her and sleep out under the stars, but she knew it would just bother her endlessly if she didn’t ask.

“Who is Zachariah? You looked pretty shocked back there when that name was mentioned. Does this have something to do with whatever you didn’t want to tell me yesterday?” Deanna had turned back to face Cas, watching her face carefully.

“It’s not important.” Her expression betrayed nothing.

“I kinda think it is. There’s something weird going on here and I don’t like it. Let’s be honest, you don’t like it either, but all you’re doing is avoiding the issue.” Deanna was exasperated and didn’t try to hide it.

“It’s none of your concern,” Cas said more firmly. She was standing more stiffly than usual, on the verge of becoming angry.

“Yeah? Whose side are you on, anyway? I’m still waiting for a straight answer.” As soon as it left her mouth Deanna knew it was the wrong thing to say. Cas’s eyes narrowed for half a second before she disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements: Thank you to my awesome artist, jennskimo, who is very talented and possibly a mind reader in terms of character design, and to my wonderful beta, pointedulac, who took time out of her own busy writing schedule to help me out with this. ♥ Also, special thanks to my perpetual partners in crime, jarvisaur and theerokappa, for name, story, and song suggestions. ♥


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